When I was a child and the road was dark and the way was long and alone, My heart would lift as I turned the bend and saw the lights of home. Now high above in a silent sky, In a still and starry space, A man looks down on the earth below, And that blue and green and shining glow, To him is the lights of home.
It`s the good earth, yes the good earth. It`s a land of sun and rain and snow, And mulberry trees and mistletoe, And burning plains and raging seas, And Sunday morning taking your ease, Watching your children grow.
It`s the good earth, yes the good earth, Where we fought and loved and killed and died, And ruined and ravished the countryside, But now, from a million miles away, From another world that`s cold and gray, Someone is able to look and say, "That`s the good earth."
So isn`t it time we stopped the tears? We`ve lived together for thousands of years, And whether I`m wrong, and whether you`re right, Whether you`re black, and whether I`m white, One day we`ll stand on the edge of the world, And someone will ask us the land of our birth, And we`ll look into his eyes and quietly say: "It`s the good earth, yes the good earth."
Why can`t we be good on the good earth?
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